Catch Me If You Can
by badonkadonk
Summary: When the Slytherin King is murdered, Neville Longbottom steps up to solve the case! But was the criminal Harry Potter, or someone more... alluring? Spoof on film noir.


It was a dark and stormy night

It was a dark and stormy night. I walked into my office, dully noting the dramatic lighting. I would have to talk to the housekeeper about that. It made everything seem black and white. But has anyone ever noticed that in black and white movies, it's not all black and white? There's gray too.

I took off my hat and stretched negligently in my chair. This was Hogwarts, after all. Everyone relaxes in this happy school. The name's Neville Longbottom. Im a detective. A private eye. A crime solver, if you will. You may know me from my day job, the Hogwarts Klutz. Let's not go into that.

Suddenly, the door in my office flew open, revealing the silhouette of a toad like woman. She ran in, threw herself onto my couch, made for such purposes, and her lips parted and told of a tale of such tragic sorrow I almost plugged my ears. Almost, but not quite.

"Detective Longbottom! Detective Longbottom! I have seen you trip in the Great Hall-"

I let out a sigh. That stupid clumsiness of mine would mark me forever.

"And I have been the biggest fan of yours all this time, but now I am requesting your help. The entire fate of the Slytherin King depends on you."

I sincerely doubted that.

"I am Pansy Parkinson, the Queen of Slytherin, along with Draco Malfoy. That means I make fun of people, be rude, and basically drive fear into the hearts of innocent children."

I was offended. I had been in the "biz" a lot longer than this chick had. I bet she thought I was an idiot or something. I put on a concerned face, though. This was business, after all.

"Just moments ago, I visited Draco's winter house in the Hogwarts grounds. He and I are...well, engaged, obviously, and I had a key. He wasn't there, so I presumed he was out flying. The weather has been so crisp and Draco loves flying during the winter. But, horribly, Draco was not on his broom. I saw his body laying on the sidewalk, dead."

I didn't point out that usually in mysteries people die. The dame seemed too distressed to be bothered about such petty details.

"It was so awful! Draco looked so cold and frozen and dead!"

"That usually happens in winter. Oh well, no matter. Pray continue."

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," Pansy snapped, losing her sorrowful expression, "Draco was laying down. There was blood on his delicious, well-defined chest. I am a master in knives and whatnot, being deeply fascinated by the Dark Arts (but don't tell anyone!), so I could tell Draco had been stabbed in the heart, but with what I had no clue. There was a puddle nearby and footprints walking away from his body, but they stopped at his owl box. They looked to be from stiletto heels, but I honestly cannot tell the difference between a stiletto print and a boot print," Parkinson stated, tapping her stiletto heels in the tune of Mission Impossible and running her bright-red fingernails through her thick dark hair. I noted her fingernails were chipped. I looked at my manly manicured fingers in comparison. Mine were so much prettier. But the dame had been through a lot, and I vowed not to judge.

"Was there anything else you noticed about Malfoy?" I prodded.

"Oh, there was a gold bracelet near his head. I don't know where it might have come from, however," Vivian replied automatically, as if from a script. But she wasn't the sharpest wand in the shop, so what could I expect? Answer: Nothing. Ah, well, continuing on.

"And what did this bracelet look like, Ms. Parkinson?"

"Oh, it was gold, shiny, and incredibly gorgeous," she stated, running her hand over her fat wrist. Poor thing. I bet she was frightened to death. I had better be very gentle when I broke her the news of my next course of action. I took a deep breath.

"Pansy, you must obey everything I say if you want to live past tomorrow!" I shouted, caught up in the moment.

Pansy's face turned as red as her nails. I really doubted that, though, because her nails were supernaturally red. Almost magically, really. I contemplated Pansy being an alien, but I doubted it. Her hair was too bouncy to be supernatural.

"Mr. Longbottom, I am in your hands until tomorrow, for I have a vacation planned for the Bahamas that I have been waiting for for a very long time."

"Of course," I replied easy-goingly. Inside I was seething. So she was going to make this difficult.

"Well, Ms. Parkinson, Ill take it from here. I assure you that the fate of your friend will be safe with me. I've solved some hard cases before..." I really hadn't, but Pansy didn't need to know that, "And Ill do my best to have the murderer brought to justice."

Suddenly, Pansy's wand started vibrating, showing she had a call. "Oh my," She exclaimed, waving her wand in a circular pattern. "Hello?" Pansy began nodding her head, smiled, nodded again, and announced loudly, annoyingly, "This is going perfectly!" and tapped her wand silent. "Well, Longbottom, I really must get going, but do help me avenge Draco's death. I know you can do it."

Naturally, dead people don't really hold grudges, but apparently Pansy thought they did.

"Ms. Parkinson, I will do all I can to help you." I doubted it would be much, but at least I could assure her.

"Im sure Drakie appreciates it, Detective," Parkinson said, and swept out of my cubicle, closing the door behind her. I chuckled to myself at her creative pet-name for Malfoy. Drakie. How charming. Because of her slamming my door shut (that rude woman), my picture frames of me and all my fabulously famous friends fell down. Curses. I would fix that later but at the moment, I had work to do.

I went onto my old fashioned Dell laptop (a gift from one Mr. Weasley, and powered by magic), and went onto , this amazing muggle site about wizards. I wondered briefly how they knew about our kind, but didn't give it much thought. Those clever muggles, I thought giddily. Suddenly, an ad with my face popped up, scaring me senseless. No one will ever know what true terror one feels when they see their face on a billboard. But I do. Im Neville Longbottom.

I searched Draco Malfoy's will and quickly found it. One can get anything from the "internet", as muggles call it, these days. I could probably find my social security number if I needed to, but I didn't. My memory is impeccable.

Malfoy's will was very odd. Pansy inherited all of Draco's assets. Everything. Even his poodle. I wanted a poodle. Suddenly, my wand vibrated the tune of "Merlin Loves You", breaking the eerily creepy silence that is infamous in mysteries like these. It was the runner-up for the Slytherin King, Blaise Zabini. My gosh he was good-looking.

"Longbottom? Big fan. Love when you trip. Hilarious. Anyways, Harry Potter just wanded. He asked about taking Malfoy's place as Slytherin King. Something about 'broadening his horizons'. He sounded very suspicious."

I tapped my wand, ending the call. My first suspect! This was great! I had my first plan of action thought out. I swept out of my office, grabbed my robe and matching hat (accessories are what REALLY makes an outfit), and marched out the door into the snow. Oops. I forgot something. I marched inside, put on my shoes, and then marched back out into the joyous town of Hogsmeade. There were carolers (terribly off-tune) and Christmas fairies flying around, but I knew where I belonged. I went to The Three Broomsticks, the only sanitary "hang-out" for miles, which Harry Potter visited frequently. He liked the place because of the éclairs. Man, those éclairs were killer. I skipped to the restaurant, jolly that I had a suspect. I crouched below a window of the restaurant and peered up, sneakily, I hoped. Potter was sitting right there! He looked so evil, calmly eating those éclairs that I wanted to spit in disgust, but that's such a common gesture, and I am far from common. After all, Im Neville Longbottom.

I observed Harry very surreptitiously, glancing around to make sure no one noticed me. Harry grabbed a large knife. Aha! That's the weapon he used to kill Drakie! Er, I mean, Malfoy. Oh, wait, no. Potter was cutting his roll open. Suddenly, a voice of one Hermione Granger floated through the glass window.

"Oh, Harry! Did you just apparate here? How was the Dursleys? Awful, I bet."

Curses! Potter could not have done it. He had been apparating just seconds ago. I decided to leave the restaurant and visit Malfoy's house. There were probably more clues Pansy didn't spot. My eyes were probably much, much sharper than hers. They have to be. Im Neville Longbottom.

I trudged to Draco's winter mansion, and suddenly, I saw a toad like woman walk up to the door. This was it. That was the murderer! It had to be. The woman slowly, slyly crawled through the window with the agile ability of a cat. That girl was sneaky, whoever it was. I heard a cough, quickly covered up by a scuff. I took out my wand as a weapon, just in case. I went to the back door and slowly pushed it open. Creeeeeeeeeak. Oh no. I had just informed the criminal that I was there also. I ducked behind the porch just as the back door flew open. The woman stepped out, her heels clicking on the porch. They sounded like stilettos. I make sure to know these things. It's the little details that makes the difference from a solved case and a flopped case.

The woman peered her round head around, making sure no one was there. I tried to silence my breathing by not breathing. I held my breath while she slowly, methodically checked all the hiding places anyone could be, except mine. The good guys are never found in a mystery case. I heard the click of her stiletto heels against the wood porch and the click of her nails against the banister as she surveyed the backyard. Finally, the lady went inside to do more evil. It was my chance to make a move.

I threw open the back door, turning on the lights. "EXPELLIARMUS!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Yay, I got to use the one spell I was really, really good at. I looked at the murderer, holding her wand in front of her face temptingly.

Pansy Parkinson turned around, her hair framing her pale face, caught in the act of disposing of Draco's body. Recovering from the shock of seeing me, Neville Longbottom, in Draco's house, she sat down hard. "Well, Longbottom, I see you've caught me. But what are you going to do about it?"

I calmly answered her, "I had already figured out that you were the murderer, Parkinson. I had checked the crime scene before you snuck in to dispose of the evidence. The bracelet you told me about was engraved on the inside with your name. That wasn't wise of you to lose that. Also, the so-called blood you told me about wasn't blood. It was your nail polish that obviously rubbed off your nails when you stabbed your friend, possibly your only friend, in the chest. Of course, I contemplated what weapon you might have used. You had previously told me that you were a master in knives. But, there was no knife. Thankfully, though, the puddle near Malfoy's body was all I needed to crack the case. You apparently had used an icicle. An icicle is just like a knife, yet it melts, getting rid of all evidence. Also, the stiletto footprints away from the body pointed that you did the dirty deed. And what kind of person goes to the Bahamas when they already were on vacation? The elevation change would kill you. You had run out of money, due to your excessive stiletto shoe shopping, and you needed Malfoy's money, which you knew would be provided to you by Draco's will. Your greed pushed you to kill your handsome young lover, and surely your conscious will get the best of you while you're in Azkaban.

Pansy did, indeed, go to Azkaban, and I heard she's doing quite poorly with all the prison food. Im glad. Justice has been served. Now I can go back to my day job. Hogwarts would be so empty without me.

Cases Solved: One.


End file.
